When Do Warriors Cry?
by LetsSingtheDoomSong
Summary: Cultists attack and Nathaniel's quiet life he wanted is thrown back into the life of the Dragonborn he had sought to leave behind. Now he and his beloved husband Ronthil must discover who this Miraak is and why he wants Nathaniel dead so bad. Male Dragonborn/Ronthil. Mention of Rayya/Gorbash the Ironhand.


Dymond: I'm having a bit too much fun with Nathaniel and Ronthil. Most of them involve beating my little Ronthil even though I love him so much. Such as life. This one is actually going to be somewhat of a multichapter thing for the Serendipity series since I finally bought the Dragonborn DLC and decided to drag Nathaniel and Ronthil to dear old Solsteim. Oh well! Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Squiggles!)

Nathaniel set his axe aside for a moment, just long enough to retrieve another sawn log to be put on the stump and chopped in half. For once, his hair wasn't in its normal ponytail and flowing free over his bare shoulders. Sweat glistened from his face, neck and chest forcing him a few times to wipe his forearm across his forehead. His trousers were loose and comfortable for the manual labor he was doing, his boots leather and light. He gazed for just a moment out of the corner of his eye to see his beloved husband kneeling in the garden, but instead of tending to his plants, he was looking him up and down appreciatively. Nathaniel smirked, only for it to grow wider when Ronthil flushed realizing he'd been caught staring. Ever proper his Bosmer was.

Nathaniel picked up the axe again and with a mighty swing chopped the log in half to join the firewood pile. Ronthil stood up from the garden, his basket full of various ingredients and walked back inside. His enhanced hearing picked up the voices of his daughters arguing over who would eat the last sweetroll Ronthil baked and his wonderful husband hushing them with promises that he'd make more. He smiled at Ronthil's soft heart and continued on his repetitive task of chopping firewood. The cold season was coming soon and they needed to be prepared lest they run out of firewood and freeze in the middle of the blizzards Skyrim was famous for.

Shadowmere snorted from her place in the stall, her head gesturing to the trough. "I'll feed you once I finish this," He promised only to receive an annoyed noise from the Oblivion horse.

If the horse could glare like a human could, he's sure that he'd be receiving the mother of all glares. He carded a hand through his black hair and chopped another piece of wood in half, setting it aside in the firewood pile.

Hearing footsteps coming up the path, he shouldered his axe and walked to see who was coming up the path. Two people, each with a strangely carved and slightly frightening masks made of bone. Their clothes matched those of the desert dwelling Dunmer with various pieces of bone armor to give them some protection but very little to give them optimal mobility. "You!" The female addressed him. "You're the one they call Dragonborn?" She questioned.

Nathaniel gave a confused looked. "Yes, I am Dragonborn."

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver," She growled at him startling him. He had enemies sure, but someone _angry_ that he was Dragonborn? That was a first for him. "The True Dragonborn comes… You are but his shadow." Nathaniel removed the axe from his shoulders and held it in a way for quick retaliation should they attack. "When Lord Miraak appears all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!"

Their blades were out and on the attack. He blocked one swing only to have to move away from the second. These attackers were trained well in the art of dual combat, one to directly attack and the other to go for the flank.

He barely heard the front door of his home open until a fireball hit one of his attacks, burning him severely. It gave Nathaniel enough time to put a safe distance between him and the attackers and gave him enough time to see who launched the fireball. It was Ronthil, looking absolutely murderous that these people had dared to attack his husband. Rayya and Gorbash were right behind him in an instant attacking these assaulters and before they knew it, the two had fallen from the sheer force they brought on together.

He knelt down and sifted through their pockets until he withdrew a note from the female's pockets. He opened it and read it over before reading it aloud for his family. "_Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Nathaniel before he reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased_."

"Solstheim?" Gorbash questioned crossing his large arms.

"It's an island off of Vvardenfall," Ronthil answered his questioned.

"Who in the Nine is Miraak?" Nathaniel asked next reading the note over a few times. "And why did they called him the True Dragonborn?"

"I thought that was your title," Gorbash gruffed. "Only have one Dragonborn at a time has been around."

Nathaniel shook his head and shrugged. "I'm not sure about the legends of the Dragonborn. All I know is that it's caused me enough trouble. I thought this mess ended with the defeat of Alduin and Paarthurnax teaching the dragons the Way of the Voice."

"Well, it looks like we're heading for Solstheim," Ronthil smiled and walked back into the house.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a second," Nathaniel chased after his elven husband. "'We'?" He only received a grin from the ginger haired elf. "Ronthil..." His tone was low and warning.

"You're not going off on your own again. We're married. We do this together," He chided, placing his hands on Nathaniel's firm chest running his fingers through the soft chest hair his husband possessed. "Besides, if you go off on your own, do not expect to get any sex when you return."

Nathaniel's jaw dropped at the threat. "What happened to the sweet and kind Ronthil I married. Who is this imposter that is making threats?" He wrapped his arms around his lithe husband, lifting him clear off the ground. Ronthil loosely wrapped his legs around Nathaniel's waist for support and grinned like a fool.

"I'm still coming with."

Nathaniel couldn't help but start to worry about his husband's safety.

* * *

Sissel and Britte both ran into their bedroom with the huskies right behind them. Only a few days had passed since the strange people in masks attacked them and Nathaniel and Ronthil packed what they knew they would need for the trip. Nathaniel bent down and scooped up his beloved daughters, holding them close to his chest. Sissel reached for Ronthil and she was quickly brought into the elf's loving embrace.

"We'll be back before you know it," Nathaniel reassured giving Britte one last squeeze before setting her down. Sissel joined her sister and both looked up nervously at their fathers like they were never going to see them again.

All perked up at the sounds of several horses coming up the path and Nathaniel smiled. "They're here early," He said looking down at the two. "Guess who's here?"

"Uncle Brynjolf! Uncle Ralof!" They chorused, dashing past Nathaniel and Ronthil and out the front door to the Nords atop a blonde mare and a painted stallion.

Brynjolf quickly dismounted and caught the two, spinning around quickly making them squeal in delight. Ralof joined and stole Sissel from the red-haired Nord. Nathaniel approached the two, "Thank you for coming, my friends."

"It is no trouble at all, Lad," Brynjolf laughed, flipping Britte so that she hung upsidedown in his grasp. The huskies barked excitedly at the play. Where Brynjolf was excitable for the girls, Ralof was calming and kept them out of trouble which was the reason why Nathaniel called upon the two of them to come and watch over his daughters while he went to deal with this new menace.

Ralof clasped Nathaniel's wrist firmly and smiled coyly, "Gerdur tells me you've neglected visiting her."

The dark haired Nord smiled back and said, "You try having an eager husband and two daughters to raise on top of being the Dragonborn, old friend. Come in."

Ralof and Brynjolf made themselves comfortable at the long table. Rayya flushed at Brynjolf's suggestive comments and scurried off to help Ronthil with a dinner suitable for their family and extended family. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Bryn," Nathaniel commented, noting the feline grin on the theif's face. "I'm expecting her and Gorbash to make an announcement soon."

Brynjolf faked hurt, "I'm outdone by an Orc? Oh the humiliation!" He squeeze Britte earning him a protest and a smack to the forehead.

"So, Solstheim?" Ralof voiced, nursing his mug of mead given to him by Ronthil.

"Any of you heard of Miraak?" Nathaniel asked and only gained unknowing glances at each other. Not a clue. "He was mentioned in the note the masked men carried. They also had orders to 'kill the False Dragonborn'. Solstheim was mention as well, so Solstheim is where we're going."

"Do you have any idea what to expect?" Nathaniel smiled at Ralof's concern for him. After taking many an arrow for him in the battles across Skyrim, it was no surprise that Ralof was done seeing his friend get hurt.

They were interrupted briefly by Ronthil and Rayya balancing several plates of cooked salmon and grilled leeks, setting a plate in front of each person seated at the table. They were joined by Gorbash who had returned from a patrol of the perimeter searching for any more of the masked assailants. Brynjolf could now see the affection Rayya held for Gorbash and silently withdrew his comments to her.

Ronthil took a seat by his husband and quickly realize just how small he felt in comparison to the men at the table. Three Nords, an Orc, and the only person being somewhat his size was a Redguard woman. He even knew his daughters would grow taller than him. Such the burdens of being a Bosmer elf instead of maybe a Altmer. Even the Dunmer were taller than his kind. Next to Nathaniel, he might as well have been a dwarf, but the warm hand on his thigh reminded him that it was not his size that Nathaniel cared for (though he knew the Nord had a slight size kink), it was his heart and his unconditional love and kindness even in the face of those that degraded him. He did not miss Castle Volkihar in the slightest.

"You haven't answered my question," Ralof pressed, swallowing a mouthful of fish.

"Honestly, not a clue. All I know is that Miraak's want-to-be assassins failed miserably in their attempt at my life. Who knows what the rest of them would be like?" He shrugged heavily and continued digging in to his meal.

The girls finished first and with a firm, "Dishes in the kitchen basin," from Ronthil, they disappeared to play with the dogs before they'd be called to bed.

"We're going to travel to Windhelm tomorrow morning. You'll be staying in my home there. I know my girls: They'll want to be on the docks when I return home," Nathaniel explained. "There's plenty of room and Calder shouldn't give you too much trouble. Keep him out of the ale though."

"What for?" Brynjolf scoffed at the mention of keeping a Nord out of ale.

Nathaniel gave him a stern look. "Unless you want to be serenaded by an ass-bare Calder, I would keep him out of the ale." Ronthil still had nightmares about that delightful evening. He received nods from both of his closest friends.

They retired for the evening, Brynjolf and Ralof comfortable with sharing the upstairs guest bed since all other beds were taken though he's sure they slept back to back and as far away from each other as possible. Or Brynjolf felt the need to make Ralof completely uncomfortable and has already laid pressed up against the blonde Nord.

Morning came around and the place was already in a bustle. Horses were saddled and packed, the girls were each in the arms of their fathers still in between sleep and a hazy wake. Nathaniel mounted Shadowmere and settled Sissel so that she was facing him and could sleep a little more comfortably with him leaning back in the saddle. Ronthil climbed into the saddle of his own horse that he had bartered several of his potions and elixirs for that he affectionately named Gelebor in honor of the last Snow Elf in all of Skyrim that he had the honor of meeting. Britte sat similar to her sister in his saddle and he copied Nathaniel's position.

Seeing Brynjolf and Ralof settled in for the journey, they departed for Windhelm giving a small wave to Rayya and Gorbash who had to hold the Sceolang and Bran back from running with them since it was decided that they would remain behind.

They continued on straight, only stopping for food and rest to stretch their legs arriving at sundown at the gates of Windhelm. They left their horses with the stable master and entered the gates that the guards eagerly opened with the shout to the others, "The Dragonborn has arrived!"

Calder greeted them uncaringly and continued with his dinner. Sissel and Britte darted for their rooms to deposit their possessions. "You may use our bedroom while we are gone," Nathaniel rambled off, leading them to the master bedroom on the second story. "Single bed, sorry Ralof."

"I don't mind."

"Across the hall is Calder's, so you don't have to worry about that room. In fact, I'd suggest you stay out of there because I'm sure something is alive in there that isn't supposed to be."

Brynjolf wandered over to the numerous weapons cases, whistling at the varying degrees of weapons from knives to bows to warhammers he had never seen before, including Auriel's Bow which he thought was legend and apparently had the power to block out the sun (which is explained the sudden night that befelled them when Nathaniel wanted to test that theory). "No you can't borrow any of the weapons," Nathaniel said before the thief could open his mouth.

"Sissel, Britte!" Nathaniel called out, wandering back down the stairs.

The girls came out of their room, knowing the call was for them to say goodbye to their fathers. They were crying, not wanting them to leave and Nathaniel wiped their faces dry. "Now, now, when do warriors cry?" He asked giving them each a warm smile.

"When a brother has fallen," Britte recited, having been told a dozen times by her Nordic father.

"That's right. Are you believing me and your papa are dead already?" They shook their heads in disagreement. "Then hold your tears. We'll be back, I promise." Ronthil knelt besides them and kissed each girl on the forehead.

They slung their packs over their shoulders and left their family behind them. The docks were bustling with Argonians as per usual. Shahvee waved at them as they passed and Nathaniel dipped his head to her. There was a new ship docked which had to be the _Northern Maiden_.

The crew were doing preventative maintenance and their grizzled captain looking angry about _something_. Nathaniel glanced at Ronthil who shrugged and gestured for him to take the lead. He shook his head and approached the captain. "If you're looking for passage to Solstheim, too bad," The man said before they could open their mouths. "I'm not going back there anymore."

"What happened? Why won't you go back?" Nathaniel asked, setting his pack down and crossing his arms.

"It's hard to explain... I remember those people with the masks coming on board, then... Next thing I remember, I was here and they were gone. That's not right, losing whole days like that! There's been something strange going on there for a while, but after this... I'm done," The captain, Gjalund Salt-Sage explained. "I'm not going back to Solstheim."

"Yes, you are. You're taking me to Solstheim," Nathaniel argued. Ronthil kept silent, knowing that forcing this man was the only way since his ship was the only one sea worthy for the distance.

"Have you been listening to me? I'm not going back there!"

"You owe me. Those cultists you brought here tried to kill me."

Gjalund sighed and ran a hand through his long hair. "Alright, you have a point." Ronthil's eyes shot to his husband's face in amazement that he managed to pull that off. "Taking you back to find out who sent them is the least I can do. Besides, maybe you can put a stop to whatever's going on over there. I owe them a bit of payback myself."

"You stay out of it. Especially if you're prone to gaps in your memory," Nathaniel said, patting the man on the shoulder walking to the door leading below deck.

They could hear the captain shouting orders to his crew, telling them to make way and catch the winds. Nathaniel and Ronthil claimed a cabin for their own and settled into the bunk for a decent rest after their long journey to Windhelm. Ronthil splayed his hand on Nathaniel's chest, stroking the chest hairs making Nathaniel breathe contently at the soothing feeling. He leaned down and kissed his elf on the forehead before settling into a restful sleep.


End file.
